


Harry Potter and the Escape from Hogwarts

by Idle_Hans



Series: AU is a Measure of Distance [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, world-building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25416976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idle_Hans/pseuds/Idle_Hans
Summary: A straight line is not the shortest distance between two points.  Not by broom, anyway.
Series: AU is a Measure of Distance [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799656
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Harry Potter and the Escape from Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> If it weren't so clearly AU, this would qualify as one of my [Pocket Universities](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798099). In other words, I wrote it to explore an idea about the wizarding world.
> 
> * * *

At Halloween it became clear that no one else was safe at Hogwarts either. The news of a troll in the dungeons was met by orders for all students to return to their common rooms: which meant half the school had to walk _through_ the dungeons to get there! Fortunately for the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, the troll was not where reported. Less fortunately, it was upstairs bludgeoning to death a first-year Gryffindor. Apparently she'd taken to valuing solitude too.

As Christmas approached, Harry was almost wondering if he was better off going back to Little Whinging over the break. The Dursleys would probably be furious if he showed up, but a few of Harry's more regular tormentors — red-haired and otherwise — had gleefully dropped hints about their own intentions of staying at school.

Final confirmation that Hogwarts and Harry were not meant for each other arrived high up in the air at the last supervised flying practice for the term. Harry loved flying, even on the wretched old school brooms. At least, he loved it until the broom he was riding started bucking around violently in mid-flight, and Harry was barely able to steer it away from the practice field and out over the edge of the lake before he fell off. He'd never been taught to swim, but coming down with a splash was better than a bone-shattering crunch, surely? Apparently Harry was alone in this opinion, because when he got out of the infirmary after treatment for half-drowning and hypothermia, Madame Hooch gave him detention for dangerous operation of a broom — namely using a Bronco Jinx at altitude — and for flying out of bounds. Also, he was banned from flying lessons for the rest of first year: which effectively meant forever.

That was enough. Whoever pranked Harry that time had nearly killed him. Magic or not, it wasn't worth sticking around to become the next Hogwarts ghost. 'Ghastly Granger' might be content to spend library hours reading over people's shoulders with her remaining eye, and the rest of the time harassing the Gryffindor lower years into doing their homework, but Harry didn't care to spend eternity saddled with a nasty nickname and wandering the corridors looking for bullies to dob in, no matter how useful a service that might constitute.

He couldn't stay at school and he didn't want to go home, so what was left? All he had to do to get back to London was survive the train trip with the other students. But then what? If he left his trunk hidden somewhere on Platform 9¾ he could walk to Diagon Alley in hopes of finding a book of charms for housekeeping, or camping, or something; then he'd just have to see if an uneducated wizard could survive outdoors in the middle of winter.

* * *

  
It turned out that Father Christmas played Seeker for Slytherin.

A few days before the winter break, Harry was sitting in the library with an atlas open on the table in front of him. He was currently staring longingly at a map of magical North America.

"Planning a trip?"

Startled, Harry looked up at Terence Higgs, who had what looked like a book on NEWT-level Arithmancy under his arm. The expression on Higgs's face was mocking, but that was normal for him when dealing with first years.

"Of course not," Harry answered hastily. He shrugged, trying to make light of it. "How would I even get there."

"By yourself, you mean?", Higgs responded. "Broom. I know you can fly."

"Across the Atlantic?", asked Harry disbelievingly.

"No, you little fool!", laughed Higgs, who sat down opposite Harry while casting a privacy charm. "Leave that to Jocunda Sykes. You fly _around_ it."

The seventh year flipped through the atlas until he found the page he wanted, which was labelled _Peri-Atlantic Flyway_ and showed the North Atlantic Ocean marked with a series of lines and route markings jumping from island to island all the way from Norway to Canada. Higgs rattled off a series of names as he tapped each corresponding location on the map. "Scotland, North Rona, Færoe Islands, Iceland, Greenland, Baffin Island, mainland Canada. Then you just fly south over land for a thousand miles 'til you reach wherever you're going. Apart from the two hundred seventy miles between the Færoes and Iceland, you're never crossing open ocean for more than two hundred miles at a stretch. It's a well-established flight path: the wayfinding beacons have been in place since the early eighteen-hundreds."

Higgs smirked at the astonished Harry. "In high summer, on a fast enough broom, you can get from Hogsmeade to northern Quebec in a single day. I did it with my uncle two years ago." The smirk turned a bit cruel. "This time o' year though, you'll be spending at least one night in Greenland. So you'll be needing to dig an ice cave. And warm it. Better practise your charms."

Harry swallowed, and tried to keep his voice light. "If I tried that on a school broom, I think I'd crash into the sea before I cleared Cape Wrath."

"Very true," agreed Higgs, "and it would take you a week even if you didn't." The older Slytherin said nothing for a moment, before suddenly lunging halfway across the table and staring straight into Harry's eyes. "But _my_ broom," he said, "is a Thunderbolt IV: three years old, one hundred and eighty miles an hour, and the full array of anti-Muggle concealment charms, weather shielding, and navigational aids."

Higgs sat back, still not breaking his stare. "One-time offer. If you decide to do this," he said, tapping the atlas, "you can have it. Permanent loan."

At last he blinked, then smirked again. "I'll even swear an oath on my magic that I had it serviced in July, and to the best of my knowledge and belief it's in perfect condition."

"You'd ... give me your broom?" asked Harry tentatively. He was confused, and looking for the punchline. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you're the Boy-Who-Lived," replied Higgs sweetly, "Some people loved you, others always hated you, and now that you're in Slytherin there's no one who likes you at all. If I go home and tell my grandfather that Harry Potter left the British Isles swearing never to return, and all it cost me was my broom, I'll have a Nimbus 2000 by the end of the holidays."

He broke the privacy charm and stood up. "Think about it," he said, then picked up his book and walked away.

* * *

  
The following evening, with just another two days of term left, Harry managed to catch Higgs's eye before stepping out of the Slytherin common room as though heading for the library. He waited in the corridor for about a minute before Higgs joined him.

"Well?"

"I've thought about it," Harry said.

"And?"

"You mentioned weather shielding?"

Higgs smirked. "Banned in Quidditch for no good reason, but it keeps you warm and dry for as long you're on the broom."

"And the broom can lock on to the wayfinding beacons?"

"Correct," Higgs confirmed. "Activate the runic array and the whole thing acts like a giant Point Me charm to the beacon of your choice. You won't get lost."

Harry took a deep breath and held it for a moment.

"Then I'll do it."

"Swear to that, and the broom's yours. Meet me on top of the Astronomy Tower six-thirty Saturday morning. Now piss off."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Hogwarts* to North Rona, 120 miles  
> North Rona to Færoe Islands, 160 miles  
> traverse Færoe Islands, 65 miles  
> Færoe Islands to Iceland, 270 miles  
> traverse Iceland, 285 miles  
> Iceland to Greenland, 185 miles  
> traverse Greenland, 700 miles  
> Greenland to Baffin Island, 205 miles  
> traverse Baffin Island, 390 miles  
> Baffin Island to Labrador, 75 miles
> 
> Total flyway distance Hogwarts to Labrador, 2455 miles  
> Time @ 180 mph = 13 hrs 40 min
> 
> * * *
> 
> Labrador to Quebec City, 970 miles  
> Total flyway distance Hogwarts to Quebec City, 3425 miles  
> Time @ 180 mph = 19 hrs  
> [Straight line distance Hogwarts to Quebec City, 2775 miles. Detour via flyway, 650 miles]
> 
> * * *
> 
> _alternatively_ , Labrador to Haileybury Quidditch Ground, Canada, 1070 miles  
> Total flyway distance Hogwarts to Haileybury, 3525 miles  
> Time @ 180 mph = 19 hours 40 minutes  
> [Straight line distance Hogwarts to Haileybury, 3045 miles. Detour via flyway, 480 miles]
> 
> * * *
> 
> *Hogwarts itself is unplottable, but Google Maps claims to know at least the approximate location of [Hogsmeade](https://www.google.com/maps/place/Hogsmeade,+Beauly+IV4+7JX,+UK/@57.0277721,-6.1459667,8z/data=!4m5!3m4!1s0x488efe73b221f259:0xce044fa7d5835480!8m2!3d57.4663288!4d-4.9034191!5m1!1e4).


End file.
